Today
by pocketcucco
Summary: Today I held my son in my arms. Daddy Haytham AU.
1. I

I've been absolutely fascinated by the idea of Ziio and Haytham staying together through her pregnancy and Connor's birth for a really long time now. I actually have the majority of this story written, but I'm splitting it into parts for now because it got...really, really long, haha. It started out as a small idea but it just kept growing. So there's quite a bit more on the way, whenever I get a chance to edit it!

* * *

**_Today_**

Today Ziio told me of her pregnancy.

She came to me with her hand across her belly, with a strange look in her eyes. It was one of the first times I had seen her worried, and perhaps a bit unsure - but not afraid. No, Ziio was never afraid. Not even this could upset her.

"Are you sure?" were the first words out of my mouth, and I immediately felt the fool for them. There was a time, very long ago, when I had fancied the idea of being a father, though I knew it would be near impossible in my line of work; and my reaction in those fantasies never began with anything along the lines of "Are you sure?", but rather an embrace, or a kiss, or some sort of enthusiasm appropriate for the situation.

I deserved the expression that Ziio gave me. "Of course I am," she said.

"Do you know how far along?"

She looked down to her belly. She wasn't showing, not yet; but still, for a moment I was gripped by the urge to reach out and press my hand against hers.

"It is still early."

"...What are we going to do?"

Her eyes snapped up to meet mine. "We?"

"Well, of course," I began. "Or... It...is mine, isn't it?"

"You're asking me that _now_?"

"I'm curious-"

"You are. Don't be ridiculous. You are the only man I have been with."

A weight left my shoulders. "All right," I breathed. "All right. We're presented with several choices now, assuming that you want to go through with this."

Ziio looked as though she was about to slap me.

"What?" I asked her, eyebrow raised.

"I am keeping this child, no matter what you say," she told me. The tips of her fingers curled around her stomach, almost protectively.

The ridiculous fantasies of my youth suddenly filled my mind, and I was at a loss for words. Haytham Kenway, a father. It sounded so strange. I could barely imagine myself in the position now, though I'd thought about it several times before. I wondered, briefly, if perhaps this was some sort of dream, and I would wake up in Boston, alone and disoriented.

But Ziio was still watching me with that calculating gaze of hers. I cleared my throat and tried to start again.

"As I was saying. We have several options to choose from now."

She reached forward and put a tentative hand on my arm. I stared down at it, stared at her.

"You are going to stay?" she asked. Her voice was so low that I had to lean closer to hear her.

"Well-"

"What of your men?"

Ah. Yes. I sighed quietly.

"They can be dealt with later. This takes priority."

She regarded me with a strange look then, one that I didn't recognize.

"You make this all sound so... I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Like it is just business to be dealt with."

"It's not. I am just..." I stopped myself again. "It's a lot to take in. I apologize, Ziio."

Her hand gripped me just a bit tighter.

"It will be okay," I said, though I was not completely sure of it myself.

* * *

Today I found myself back in Boston.

Making arrangements with Ziio was...trying, at best, when everything I suggested was immediately pushed aside. She refused to come back to the city with me, but of course I was expecting that. Joining her in the village was also out of the question; there I would never feel accepted or comfortable.

This left us with one final option: we could build a place for ourselves in the frontier and raise the child here.

We were both hesitant for our own reasons: I was reluctant to be so far from the Colonial Order while it was still in its relative infancy, and Ziio did not want to be away from her village during this vital time. I argued that she had spent entire weeks with me in the wilderness, but she replied that those were temporary stays.

In the end, I returned to Boston and she went back to the village, both of us under the pretense that we would take another week to think things through. I had spent the entire ride back thinking, wondering if it was all worth it... And when I thought of her raising a child - our child - on her own, I knew it would be. Could be, rather.

"Welcome back, sir." Charles's greeting was warm but curious when I returned to the Green Dragon.

"Will you be back with us for long, or...?" William let the question trail off, and I nodded.

"I have no further business to attend to for some time," I told them, hoping to stave off the questions for just a while longer. They nodded, though Charles looked suspicious and Thomas didn't even bother to hide the mirth in his expression. I knew that rumors of my activities outside the Order were circulating like wildfire through the group; and I should not have cared, but it still irked me that they were so interested in my private affairs.

I spoke with my Templar brothers for some time, informing them of my plans for the precursor site ("Let it be for now") and what I wanted them to take care of instead ("See if you can procure more information from the natives in the area") before I dismissed them and returned to my own paperwork. There was already so much of it before I left for the frontier and now the pile seemed even larger since I'd come back.

"Sir, a moment?"

I turned at the sound of Charles's voice. Our other brothers had already dispersed, but he was still waiting at the table. Watching me.

"Yes?" I asked, hoping that my voice would not betray my apprehension.

"I know I've already spoken with you about your absences-"

"And I know that I've already made it clear what I thought about that."

Charles stared at me for a moment, caught somewhere between fear and anger, but he reined himself in with a long breath before he spoke again.

"I merely wanted to ask if you've been all right. You seem addled."

Addled? I thought I'd covered up as best I could, but apparently not. Or perhaps Charles was just unusually observant. I had spent plenty of time emphasizing the importance of that particular skill, after all.

"I suppose I'm just tired. That's all. The last few days have been...trying," I replied after a moment's pause.

Charles hesitated, like he was waiting for me to say more. "I...also felt that an apology might be in order," he said, clearing his throat. "For the things I said before. When I found you and your...woman in the woods."

I felt my expression darken. "Really, now? You seemed so convinced when you said them."

"You can hardly blame me, sir. You disappeared for weeks just to-" He stopped himself there, took another breath, and continued. "We missed your guidance. It was so strong in your first few months here."

"Like I said, I wanted to be sure that you could lead the men sufficiently. I trust you, Charles. You have good judgment. You're intelligent. And, most importantly, you learned what you know from me."

Charles brightened for a moment. "I understand, sir. I was just... It felt like you...abandoned us."

"Never. You know how important the Order is to me."

"I know, but-"

"I won't be abandoning you or it any time soon. You can be sure of that."

The words were out of my mouth before I could really consider them. How much time would I be able to devote to the Order if Ziio agreed to stay together? If she agreed to allow me to help raise our child?

I brushed the thought away. That could all be dealt with later. For now I had to secure Charles's trust again.

And, much to my relief, Charles nodded - reluctantly, and perhaps a bit defiantly, but he nodded all the same.

"Yes, sir," he said, before he turned to leave me to my work.

* * *

Today Ziio told me what she had decided.

We are going to live together in the woods, close enough to her village that she could return if she needed.

We were rather far from Boston and the bulk of the Order, but still. I could not complain, given that I was surprised she'd acquiesced to this at all; my initial thought was that she would stay in the village and ask for me to move closer.

It would take a long time to scout out a place that fit both of our needs. I was already thinking over various sites I had come across in my travels when Ziio interrupted me.

"You are sure you want to do this?" she asked. There was no fear there, like before; only trepidation, concern.

"Quite sure," I told her, though I wasn't. I was thinking again of the Order, of my promise to Charles.

Ziio seemed to sense this. She furrowed her brow and scowled.

"Your thoughts are elsewhere."

"It's a lot to take in."

"You said that before."

"And can you blame me? I knew there was a possibility that you could become pregnant but I still never expected for it to happen!"

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. "I apologize," I said briefly, though Ziio seemed more irritated than upset.

"You haven't considered that perhaps I have felt the same?"

"Ziio, I-"

She held up a hand to silence me. "You're not the only one being affected by this. We both are. This child is mine - and yours. You say you want to help raise it? Then help. But don't come to me to complain about how lost or confused you are, because I have felt the same...and perhaps worse."

I said nothing for a moment. She was right, of course - as always. And it made me guilty.

"You have your..._brothers_ to contend with, and I have my village. My people. Our child's people."

"We don't have to give those up," I told her quietly. "The Order will continue to run. I will return to them from time to time, but-"

"And what of my people? I will not be living with them."

"You can do the same. Return to them from time to time. Visit. Teach our child their customs and traditions."

"I don't know if we can stay with a foot in each world like this," she said, softer this time.

I stepped forward and put both hands on her shoulders. She stared up at me, her expression one of worry. Hesitation. Anxiety. I had a feeling that those same emotions were echoed across my face.

"It is possible, Ziio. Others have done it. Perhaps this will allow me to become more familiar with your people so that the Order can better help them-"

"No. Please. We can take care of ourselves."

I bit my tongue. This was the same argument that had almost broken us apart several months before; I did not want to come that close to losing her again. So I started over.

"Men of the Order do not always devote themselves entirely to it. It's possible for me to be with you and to keep them in line as well. And as for your village-"

"I can still visit when I can."

"Of course."

She eyed me seriously. "And do you plan to put your Order before your child?"

That brought me pause. My first reaction was to tell her No, of course not, but I thought again of Charles, of the looks on my mens' faces when I returned to them after a prolonged absence in the woods...

No. This was important. Even I knew that. I thought of my own father, of the attention he gave me, of his obvious care...

"They will do just fine without me constantly breathing down their necks," I answered after a moment. "I will return to them occasionally, but my attention lies with you and the child."

Ziio's smile was thin.

"That is good to hear."

* * *

Today I woke up in a home that smelled of the pine forests and summer grass.

I also found that Ziio had already gone, though her side of the cot was still warm. I really wished that she wouldn't disappear like she was, especially at this point in her pregnancy. She was not fond of the home at all, and much preferred to stay amongst her people when she could.

I suppose I couldn't blame her. But at the same time I wished that she would stay closer to me.

...I was jealous, in all honesty. And worried. I had never dealt with a pregnancy before, and I wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible.

But of course Ziio did not want to be doted on or pampered. Again, I was not surprised.

I spent that morning as I always did: dressing, preparing a bit of a meal, and going over the documents I'd collected from my last meeting with the men of the Order. For the moment, they were tasked with visiting the precursor site and the area surrounding it - and though I'd told them numerous times to be _gentle_, I was sure that they had not heeded my warnings at all. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I should accompany them on one of their expeditions into the woods when there was a knock at the front door.

I frowned. It couldn't have been Ziio, or any of her villagers. So I made my way to the door, opened it, and was completely surprised to find Charles standing there.

"Well," I said, quite lamely, once I'd recovered. "Is something wrong?"

The corner of Charles's mouth quirked. "Nothing's wrong. I wanted...to see you, sir. It's been a while."

"Ah."

"And we've heard the news."

"News?"

"Your Mohawk woman. And her, ah...condition."

My heart leapt up into my throat. I had expected this to happen, of course - though later rather than sooner. Perhaps after the child had been born. Perhaps-

"Come in," I said after a moment, pushing the door open wider. Charles did so, albeit reluctantly, casting his gaze about as he passed the threshold and stepped into the hall.

"She's not here," I said, and he straightened up immediately.

"I was not-"

"It's fine."

I beckoned him to my office with a wave of my hand. Our wooden home was very small - a big difference after growing up in the Kenway mansion and Reginald's own house - but I'd made a point to afford a room of my own. Ziio did not disagree.

"Where did you hear this?" I asked once we seated ourselves in the office.

Charles fidgeted for a moment. "Hickey," he said after a beat.

"Of course." I sighed, running a hand over my face. It was just barely past noon and I was already feeling exhausted. "Did Johnson send him, or did he do this of his own accord?"

"Well, we...we were all curious, sir, what with you building a home so far from Boston-"

"And you did not think to simply ask me?"

"I did, sir," Charles protested, irritation slipping into his tone, "and you told me that it was so you could be closer to the precursor site. Even though you've expressed so little interest in actually accompanying us on the expeditions."

He had me there. I backed down for a moment, considering my options, but Charles continued on.

"Why didn't you trust me - us - enough to tell us about this? We're your brothers. The Templars stand together."

"It was all rather unexpected, truth be told," I said, "and very personal, on top of that."

"She is...keeping the child?"

"Yes."

"You plan to raise it with this woman?"

"For the moment, yes."

"What of the Order?"

"Things will continue as usual. As you can see, I have all of my documents in order-"

"But we need you, sir. It's not the same without your guidance."

I faltered for a moment. "You've done just fine until now. I trust your judgment, Charles."

"You are our leader, Master Kenway. There is no replacement for that."

Well. I certainly wasn't disappointed by his praise, but...

"Charles. I need for you to understand that circumstances have...changed for a time. I am still your Grand Master, and I still fully intend to lead the Order, but-"

"But what?" he demanded before I could finish. "You're abandoning us for this woman?"

"I am not abandoning you," I said through gritted teeth. "I've already said countless times now that I will continue to lead. I will return to Boston when I can to issue orders and hear reports. If any of you have something pressing to tell me, you are more than welcome to come here."

A vein bulged in Charles's neck. "The rest of us have remained in Boston, and we have completely dedicated our lives to the Order and-"

The back door opened and slammed shut. Charles swung around, his fury ignited - until he found himself face-to-face with Ziio and the full force of her glare.

I took some pleasure in the myriad of expressions - anger, confusion, fear - that crossed his face.

Charles began to stand. I followed in suit, my gauntleted wrist prepared to flex, glad then that throwing on my hidden blade was still a habit that refused to die.

"Perhaps it is time for you to go, Charles," I suggested, my tone taut and thin.

He stared at Ziio for a moment longer. She stared back at him, her fury giving way to a cool, calm sort of anger.

"This conversation is not over, Master Kenway," he said, though he gathered up his things and returned to the front hallway. I followed him, arms rigid at my sides, until he reached the door and threw it open.

"Good day, Charles," I said only moments before he slammed it shut.

A tense silence fell over the house. I could hear Ziio's gentle footsteps behind me.

"What did he want?" she asked.

"For me to return to Boston."

"Are you?"

"Of course not. Everything's going just fine without my constant presence. I don't understand why he's so adamant about my coming back."

She was quiet for a moment. Thoughtful.

"They are not happy that you are here with me."

"No," I admitted.

"Ignore them. They will get over it."

"I hope so."

I doubted so.

* * *

Today I convinced Ziio to allow me to accompany her into the woods.

Truth be told, I probably could have asked her long ago and she would have agreed. I'm not entirely sure why I waited until now, when her belly was so swollen that she could barely walk.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I asked her as we walked a short dirt path from the house.

Ziio glanced at me over her shoulder. "Of course. We won't go far. I want some fresh air."

I watched her as she walked, with one hand over her stomach and the other hanging at her waist. I reached over without thinking and slipped my fingers through hers, drawing her closer to my side. She tightened the grip.

"We have a long road ahead of us," she said.

"Indeed."

"Have you ever thought about being a father? Before this?"

"Several times, I will admit. It was more of a passing fantasy than anything else. With all of my responsibilities with the Order, all of the traveling... I suppose I never thought it would happen."

I saw Ziio looking up at my from the corner of my eye. Her gaze was curious.

"Do members of your Order often marry? Have children?"

"They do, from time to time. My father was not of this Order - he was part of a different one - and he managed to have me, as well as my sister."

She raised an eyebrow. "You have a sister?"

"Stepsister. Older. I have not seen her in years."

"Was she part of this...order that he was?"

"No."

Ziio nodded faintly, fingers twisting around mine. "I need to sit," she said suddenly, and I helped her to a nearby tree stump. She sat heavily and took a long breath of the cool forest air. I kept close to her side.

"Do you usually return to your people on these walks?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes. To make sure that everything is all right, but also for guidance."

"Guidance?"

"This is my first pregnancy. We observe certain customs that your people do not." She ran a hand over one of her braids, looking more tired now than I had seen her in a long time. "I am taking good care of myself and the child, Haytham. There is no need to worry."

"Ah. Of course."

I found myself circling Ziio and the stump, too restless to stand still. Of course she would seek the comforts and familiarity of her people at this point in her life; I certainly could not blame her for that. And yet...

"Do you not feel safe with me?"

Ziio gave me a strange look. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Curiosity. Little more than that."

"Mhm," she hummed, a smile gracing her lips. "I do. And I know that I can take care of myself. But the men of your Order are...questionable."

"They would never hurt you. I'd never allow it."

"I know that. But I also know that they are...less than happy about this arrangement."

I circled the stump again, searching for the right words. How could I help Ziio to feel more at ease in our own home when I still found myself worrying about my men? I doubted that they would take drastic measures, but still. I was beginning to realize that I did not have as much control over them as I once thought.

"My men will not do anything without my direct orders - and they would most definitely not cause you harm because of this. I would do everything in my power to keep you and our child safe. That I can promise."

"Don't go making promises you can't keep."

"I try not to," I assured her. "And besides, I have seen you cut the throats of several redcoat soldiers. I'm sure you could handle yourself in any given situation."

Ziio was looking up at me again, with that half-grin of hers.

"If your men want you back that badly, they will have to fight me first," she said, taking my hand again to pull me back to her side.

* * *

Today the real difficulties began.

Ziio's birthing pains, to be exact.

I followed her doggedly, wishing alternatively for some way to help and for some way to escape. I could see the pain clear in her face, in the way her lips drew taut and her brow furrowed. There was so little I could do, aside from bringing her water and trying to massage her back.

"Enough," she said after some time, sounding more tired than irritated. "The women of my village go out to the woods - alone - when they are ready to give birth. I will do the same."

"Alone?" I parroted. "But what if something happens? What if there are complications and-"

She put up a hand to silence me. "I will be fine. If the women of my village could do it - if my own mother could do it - then so can I."

"This is your first pregnancy, Ziio. I can't let you go by yourself."

She gave me a look. _That_ look.

And then she put a hand to my cheek and pulled me forward for a gentle kiss.

"I will be fine," she promised me, our face only inches apart. Her breath was warm against my lips, and despite all of my trepidation, I longed to kiss her again.

"I am...worried," I told her. "What if something happens and I'm not there?"

"I know what I must do. Please, Haytham. I will be back."

"May I at least come to check on you?"

She hesitated for a moment. One of her fingers stroked the back of my neck, slowly, rhythmically.

"I suppose," she said after some time. "Every hour or so. No less than that."

She started to draw away, but I kissed her again.

"I know there's little I can do to stop you. So please, be careful."

* * *

Today I was more of a mess than I have ever been.

The only other time I was that nervous was when I was a teenager, and I was still training to become a Templar. Reginald had sent me out on a mission, and for the first time, I was alone in the streets of an unfamiliar city, looking for an unfamiliar man. In the days before the mission I had fancied myself a fearless young man, though I see now that I was arrogant and cocky.

The mission was a success, of course. I should never have doubted myself.

And now, I should not have doubted Ziio. Yet I found that I could not help myself.

For the first hour I paced the halls of our home before I went out into the woods and called to her. She refused to let me see her; not until the birth was over, she said. Her voice was strained, but otherwise she claimed that she was fine.

I returned to the home, but I could not bring myself to go back inside. I sat on the front porch and fiddled with the hidden blade at my wrist.

Another hour passed. I found Ziio once more and confirmed that she was all right.

This went on for several more hours. How long would it take for our child to be born? I wanted it all to be over with, for Ziio to be back inside where I knew she was safe and warm.

I needed to find something to do with my hands. So I cleaned my pistol. My hidden blade. The sword I still kept at my bedside, just in case. I circled the outside of the home twice and found myself picking at all of its flaws and problems.

The sun was beginning to set and I was just preparing to venture back out into the woods when I heard a gentle cry. A gurgle.

And Ziio's voice.

"Haytham."


	2. II

_**Today**_

Today I held my son in my arms.

It was my first time holding an infant, and Ziio fussed over the way I positioned my arms around our child's tiny body. "Support his back a little more," she said. "Use your elbow to hold his head - there you go."

I had never realized how small infants were either. My son seemed to fit so perfectly against my chest.

My son.

An unfamiliar feeling welled up in my chest as I looked down on him. I could forget about the Templars, about all of my responsibilities, about the precursor site and Those Who Came Before. Ziio came to stand beside us, and for a moment, it was like we were a real family with nothing to fear, nothing holding us back.

"Have you thought of a name?" I asked her.

Ziio gazed softly at our son and reached out to brush some of the hair - how thick it was already! - from his face. His eyes were not open yet, but I could already see that they resembled his mother's.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," she said. The word flowed past her lips so effortlessly, but I knew I was going to stumble over it for years.

"What does it mean?"

"Life that is scratched."

"That sounds rather ominous."

Ziio was silent for a moment. "It isn't," she said after a pause.

My gaze drifted back to our son. My son. Ratonhnhaké:ton.

"You couldn't pick something easier for me to say?" I said, though I felt a grin curling at the corners of my lips. Ziio returned the smile, albeit ruefully.

"You will get it eventually. There are nicknames, too."

"True."

I held my child closer. He was still so new to this world, and he smelled of warmth and pine and leaves. The light was fading fast, and I wanted to get back inside to the candles so that I could see him for just a while longer before we all drifted to sleep.

I turned to Ziio, and balanced our son in my arms while I bent to kiss her forehead.

"Thank you," I whispered.

* * *

Today I began to wonder why I had ever agreed to raising a child.

I never thought of seriously walking away from Ziio and our son, of course. But there were nights when he refused to stop crying, and days when he refused to stop crying, and I found all of the responsibilities of the Order and all of Charles's fury suddenly paling in comparison.

"He certainly has a healthy set of lungs, doesn't he?" I joked to Ziio one afternoon while she fed him. She raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

There were some evenings, though, when I offered to calm him and found myself...strangely entranced. I could remember hearing stories all through my life of new mothers and fathers who found themselves head over heels in love with their infants; most of the time I had passed them off as mere tales. But now that I was standing there myself with a child of my own resting in my arms... I was beginning to see what they meant.

Ratonhnhaké:ton - which I really needed to learn to pronounce, sooner rather than later - had his fits, but most often he was a quiet child, and when he finally opened his eyes (the same warm brown as his mother's, just as I had predicted) he seemed content to observe and absorb the world around him. I found myself carrying him about the home, showing him things, speaking to him, eager for the day when I could finally teach him, and he would understand enough to learn.

I never thought that I could care for someone as much as I did for my son. And yet here I was, at some ungodly hour far past midnight, speaking to him until he finally fell back to a fitful sleep.

* * *

Today my son almost met Charles Lee and William Johnson.

I suppose now, hindsight, I was fortunate that William had opted to leave Thomas Hickey behind for this particular trip. God knows what he would have said and done. But that did not make me any more pleased to see them coming up the dirt path to our home.

"I knew this would happen sooner or later," I said to Ziio as we watched them. She held our son in her arms, cradled against her chest. Ratonhnhaké:ton was nearly a full year old then, and squirmed about so much that I often wondered how athletic he would be when he finally gained full control of his arms and legs. Perhaps Ziio would allow me to teach him some of what I knew...

But I digress.

I met Charles and William on the front porch. Charles did not seem as angry as he had at our last meeting, which had taken place well over a year ago - though I had returned to Boston from time to time between then. We had not spoken privately since his outburst, and in the months after, he had seemed more sheepish than upset.

"Good afternoon, Master Kenway," Charles said. He looked past me, to the front door, but I had decided some time ago not to let them in.

"Good afternoon," I said, nodding to both of them. "What brings you this far north?"

"We found a new lead regarding the precursor site," William started. "And before you can tell us to stop, I would like to mention that I did obtain permission from the village elders."

"Are you sure this is worth investigating? I thought we'd exhausted every possibility," I said, lowering my voice. Ziio would not be pleased that they were returning to her peoples' sacred site.

"We think it prudent to look into everything we hear," Charles said. "Who knows what lies beyond the wall?"

"True," I murmured, "but-"

"There is also something else I would look into. What you mentioned at one of our last meetings," William said.

"We are going to speak to the village elders about purchasing the land," Charles finished.

Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten completely about that plan. Ziio still knew nothing about it; I was not yet sure when it would be a good idea to tell her. How could I break the news without making her upset? The purchase was to keep the colonists from infringing on her people's land - and to keep the precursor site safe and isolated - but I doubted she would take it well.

"Have you had any luck?" I asked them.

William shook his head. "No. But it doesn't hurt to try again, does it?"

"Of course not."

The men hesitated then. I had expected them to leave as soon as our conversation was done - but I also should have known that they had not come just to exchange Templar reports.

"Is that all?" I prompted.

It was Charles who broached the subject. "Your woman has given birth by now, hasn't she?" he asked, head tilted curiously to one side - he was trying to see past me again, into the home.

Best to keep things civil, I decided. After all, they meant no harm with simple questions.

"Yes," I said, preening a bit more than necessary. "A boy. He is nearly a year old now."

William stepped forward to clap me on the shoulder "Excellent news! What is his name? Is he in good health?"

"He is. His name is...Rah-doon-ha-gay-doon. His mother named him," I said by way of explanation when Charles gave me a confused look and William simply grinned.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," corrected William, who had spent far more time amongst the Mohawk people than I ever would. "A fine name."

"Odd, though, that you had no say in it," Charles added.

I gave him a brief look of warning - a set of the jaw, a narrowing of my eyes - before I continued. "Ziio is his mother. She has every right to choose his name. We will be raising him to understand and speak both English and her language as well."

"Have you considered bringing him into the Order when he's old enough?"

"I have," I told them. It was a thought that crossed my mind several times a day, truth be told; though I had yet to bring up the subject with Ziio, who would surely be against it.

"It only seems natural," William continued, "since his father is the Grand Master. He will receive the best tutoring this side of the Atlantic."

"I can only hope."

Charles cleared his throat when we fell silent again. "We'd best be off," he said, nodding to William. "Though I was curious, sir... When do you plan on returning to us?"

"Charles! He's just become a father-"

"Peace, William," I said before turning to Charles. "As soon as possible. My son is nearly at an age when I feel safe leaving him and his mother behind for longer stretches of time. For now, however..."

"I see," Charles said, though it was quite obvious that he did not.

"We will return when we have more news regarding the land purchase and the precursor site," William informed me. "Good day, Master Kenway."

"To you as well," I told them.

* * *

Today - little more than a month after my conversation with Charles and Johnson - Ziio informed me that she had learned of our land purchase.

"The Clan Mother told me about it," she said one night. She was sitting on the edge of our bed, twisting the blanket between her fingers. Our son had been put to sleep some time ago.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

There was little fury in her words, but I could see the fire brimming in her eyes when she looked at me. I thought for a moment about how I was seeing the beginnings of that fire in our son's eyes when he disobeyed me.

"Haytham?"

"It is merely a precaution. The colonists are inching closer and closer to your land and your people."

"When did the Order start caring about our wellbeing?"

"Since I am its leader, and since you are the mother of my child," I said evenly. "And I would be fighting to protect it even if that was not so."

"I suppose out of the goodness of your heart?"

I put my fingers to the bridge of my nose and pinched. "The precursor site," I muttered.

"The what?"

"The cave you showed me some years ago. With the drawings made by your people."

She nodded faintly - and I dared to think that I was spared from her wrath.

"Wait," she said. "Have your men returned to that cave? Have they defiled it?"

"Of course not. I told them to let it be, but they returned recently to follow a new lead."

"Do you understand how important it is to my people? To me?"

"Of course I do. We are taking great pains not to disturb anything-"

"You told me that they wouldn't return! Or that you would go with them to make sure!"

Our son made a soft sound from the other side of the room. We both hesitated for a moment, but it did not escalate to a cry.

"They will not disturb the site. Charles Lee and William Johnson are two of the men that I trust the most," I assured her. I started to reach out for her hand then, but decided against it when I saw the look she gave me.

"I apologize for not telling you before," I said, my voice just barely over a whisper. "But it was all in the best interest of your people. I promise."

"The best interest of your Order, you mean."

"Think of it this way: your people will not be forced to move if the land is purchased. None of the colonists will be permitted to live or hunt on it. Your village will no longer be in danger. You can take our son there to visit, and he can learn."

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her gaze falling back to her fingers. They relaxed their grip on the blanket.

"I don't like the sound of it," she said. "Something seems wrong."

"Nothing is wrong."

"We will see, then," she said.

And left it at that.

* * *

Today I made an attempt to teach my son the finer points of speech.

"_Ken_way," I emphasized. "You are a _Ken_way. Can you say that?"

He repeated it back to me, mangled and deformed by his nearly two-year-old mouth. We had been at this for about an hour and he was still having trouble.

And yet I found myself chuckling despite that.

"It's a lost cause," Ziio said from somewhere nearby. "He is going to be just as bad with your name as you are with his."

"At least I am making an effort to try. And besides, he still doesn't know how to say his own name. What is your name?" I asked him.

He thought for a moment. "Ra...ra?" he said after some time, and Ziio laughed quietly.

My son stared up at me with those serious eyes of his. He was so thoughtful; or at least he made a very good show of it. I tousled his hair - thick as his mother's, but glossy like mine - and that seriousness gave way to a gentle grin. He grabbed my one hand with both of his, and I had to marvel at how _small _they were.

"He will grow up strong, this boy of ours," I said, somewhat admiringly.

"Of course he will, with the parents he has," Ziio agreed. "His enemies will think twice before they fight him."

"And if he takes after his father, then he is certain to charm every woman he comes across."

Ziio gave me a playful punch. "He will be far more eloquent with them."

"And if we are lucky, he won't have any enemies."

I stared at my son, at the warmth of his eyes, the smattering of freckles across his cheeks, at the proud set of his chin (though it would still be rounded with baby fat for quite some time) and the lightness in his expression. I gathered the boy up in my arms and balanced him on my shoulders.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton will make a fine man indeed," I said.

Ziio touched my elbow. "You finally said it right."

"Next we work on his pronunciation of Kenway. Come now, son. Try it again," I urged the child on my back. He repeated it once more - still badly - and gave me a soft, childlike laugh.

* * *

Today I accompanied a few of my men to the precursor site.

I chose a day when Ziio took our son to her village for one of their extended visits. I was not yet ready for her to find out that I was, once again, breaking my promises.

With any luck, she would not find out.

"Finally decided t' show up, did ye?" Thomas Hickey said to me when I arrived at the mouth of the cave. He was leaning on his musket with one hand perched on his hip.

"Good morning, Thomas," I greeted him. "I take it that the others are already inside."

"Been in there for some time. Better hurry. Ol' Lee has been askin' about ye for days now," he said with a crooked grin. "Won't let this whole thing about yer woman and brat go."

"I see," I murmured, jaw set. "Keep an eye on things out here."

"'Course."

The cavern was damp, but lit by the flickering torchlight provided by Charles, Johnson, and John Pitcairn (I was not at all surprised to see that Church was not among them; he'd been absent from quite a few of our regular meetings as well. I would have to speak with him about that later). They were standing before the wall, running their hands over the symbols - the ones left by both the Mohawk people and Those Who Came Before.

"I'm afraid we will find no way in through this entrance, gentlemen," I said as I approached. "Trust me. I have tried everything since I first came here."

"We've excavated the area all around here and found nothing," John told me, brow furrowed gently.

"But we plan to redouble our efforts when we have the manpower," Charles was quick to add.

I nodded. "And the land purchases?"

"Not as smooth as I'd hoped," William said, frowning. "They refuse to accept our terms. And lately they've refused to meet with us entirely."

John jumped back in then. "We were hoping that you might speak with them."

"Me?" I asked. "I doubt I could do much better."

"Your woman is from their village. As is your child," Charles said, just barely managing to hide the frustration from his tone. I gave him a mild glare to let him know that I did not appreciate it.

"The fact that I am the child's father will mean very little to them. I am still a British colonist in their eyes, after all."

"Surely it must mean _something_," John said.

William showed his agreement with a brisk nod. "It is worth a try, sir."

"Ziio does not approve of the idea at all," I told them, brushing my hand against the symbols on the wall. I could still remember the stories she had told me about them; that meeting felt so long ago, though it was just barely a few years past, perhaps only a year before the birth of our son.

"Does she hold much influence in the village?"

"Truthfully? I don't think so. But she is adamant, and if what you say is true, then I have a feeling that the rest of the village feels the same."

"How could you know this if she spends most of her time in your home?" Charles demanded. Both William and John gave him a look, and he silenced himself.

"She visits regularly," I told them. "She brings our son as well."

"Perhaps you might join us when we go to speak with them? We'll be leaving from here shortly."

I actually considered this for a moment. Perhaps my words would have more weight, given that I had a sort of vested interest in the wellbeing of the village; Ziio and our child depended on its survival, after all.

"I could do better than that," I said. "I will speak with Ziio tonight. If we earn her approval, then our words will mean even more to the village elders."

William seemed happy enough with this, as well as John. Charles stared at me through narrowed eyes. The man still needed convincing.

"Peace, Charles," I said, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "I will come speak with you first thing in the morning."

"Do your best to earn her approval. The precursor site depends on it," John said, his words grave.

"I will," I promised them.

Already I could feel something dark and heavy settling in the pit of my stomach.

* * *

Today I returned to find Ziio braiding our son's hair on the front porch.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's hair had become unruly, like something of a rat's nest, since it grew out, and I had to wonder which side of his family he got it from when both mine and Ziio's hair was so smooth. He sat impatiently on her lap while she worked, a gentle smile on her face.

The boy all but shot out of her grasp when he saw me coming up the dirt path. He was just barely three years old and he was already taking off like a bullet from a pistol. I wondered - not for the first time - how strong of a Templar he would make in the future.

My son barreled into me, arms flung around my legs. I picked him up with both arms (he was getting so big now) and carried him back to the house. He reached for my hat, and I removed it to place on his head. It slipped down over his eyes.

"I hope you haven't given your mother trouble today," I said.

He ducked his head and smiled. "No," was his quiet response.

"I _almost_ had his hair tamed," Ziio said, brushing off her front as she stood. "Now I will have to start all over again."

I set the boy down, but he held fast to my hand and kept to my side.

"It looks well enough," I observed, though the braid was a bit lopsided now and the rest of his hair stuck out in every imaginable direction.

"Maybe he will grow out of it one day."

Ziio looked up to me, and she was still grinning. And I began to hate myself for what I had to do.

"Would it be possible for us to speak?" I asked, then gestured to our son. "In private?"

Ziio's expression changed, melted away to something neutral. "Go play for a bit," she said before she nudged our son to the open meadow nearby. He complied immediately, happy to be away from her prying hands.

"What's wrong?" she asked me once he was gone.

"I find that I am in need of your help."

Ziio smirked. "Well, that's nothing new."

"A few of my men returned to the area. I visited them at the site you showed me."

The smile instantly left her face. "I thought we agreed that you would not let them return to that place."

"I went with them this time. Nothing in the actual cave was disturbed, I can promise you that."

"...Did you find a way to get in?"

"No." I ran a tired hand over my face. "I have decided that we are going to focus on more practical pursuits. And that is where you come in."

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, though she was clearly suspicious.

"One of my men - his name is William Johnson, I am sure you have heard of him - is trying to purchase the land your village sits on, and-"

"No!" The word exploded out of her, and our son turned from his spot in the grass to stare.

"We have discussed this countless times, Haytham," she continued in a much quieter tone. "The land is not his to buy. I want no part of this."

"I have already explained to you why it's prudent that he-"

"No," she said, with such finality that even I was taken aback. "No more of this. Do not bring it up to me again."

"I wish you could see how important this is," I said, and almost instantly I regretted it.

"In the end you're just like the others. Thinking of yourself."

"Of _myself_? Ziio, I only wish for your village to survive for your sake. For our son's."

The fire in her eyes flared to a dangerous tempest. "For the precious Templar treasure that you think is hidden within that cave."

"Ziio, please-"

"I have had enough of this argument and your Order," she said before she stormed back into the house.

I was left to myself on the porch, staring at the door with something of a glare. I should have known that the conversation would go in this direction; it always did. And yet, for some reason, I had hoped she might see the error of her judgment and the virtue of mine.

I sighed. We would get nowhere like this. But knowing Ziio, she would never back down.

Something tugged at the hem of my cloak. Ratonhnhaké:ton was there, holding fast, staring up at me with his mother's eyes.

There was no fire in his, though. Just a childlike curiosity.

I touched his head.

"Are you in trouble?" he asked, very quietly.

"Yes," I said. "I think so."


	3. III

_**Today**_

Today - or tonight, really - my son woke me up in the dead of the night with a gentle poke in the side. I stirred quietly, surprised that he had not woken his mother instead.

"What's wrong? Why are you awake?" I asked him, trying - and failing spectacularly - to keep the irritation from my tone.

The boy ducked his head again, as he was wont to do when he realized he was in some sort of trouble. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

But he remained, and I pushed myself from the bed and shepherded him out of the room.

"It's all right," I said once we were far enough away that I knew we would not wake Ziio. "Why are you still awake? Can you sleep?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Bad dreams?"

"A little."

"They are only dreams, son. They will not hurt you. Remember that."

He was staring at the ground then, hands fidgeting at his front. "I know."

I thought back to my own childhood and tried to remember if I ever had nightmares. I could scarcely remember now; it all seemed so long ago, and the memories were fading like a thin mist. What would my father have done? Probably the same thing that I had, and he would have sent me back to bed.

My own son was staring quietly at his bare feet. I sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Whatever frightened you in your dreams cannot hurt you now. Your mother and I won't let it."

"It was not a monster dream."

"No? What was it?"

"There are a lot of noises at the village. I keep thinking about them," he told me. "Ista says not to go near them..."

"Noises?" I repeated, though I knew exactly what he was talking about: the men near and at the precursor site, digging and shouting and making all kinds of fuss. I would have to speak with them about that.

My son nodded, looking rather forlorn. I knelt down at his level, keeping one hand on his shoulder. Perhaps it would be best for us to simply talk; he would become sleepy again soon enough with his nightmares forgotten. And I hadn't had the chance to speak with him in what felt like ages.

"What did you see in your mother's village today?" I asked him.

His expression lit. "Friends. Clan Mother. Ista showed me tree climbing."

"She's teaching you that already? Aren't you too small?"

"She won't let me climb yet!" he protested, but he was smiling.

I returned the grin and tousled his hair. "Of course. She will teach you when you're bigger."

"...What will you teach me?" he suddenly asked, his expression one of curiosity and awe.

"How to be strong. Brave," I said. I was inspired, looking down at my son, imagining all that he could become: a fellow Templar, perhaps? He was a serious boy, but already I could tell that he was thoughtful and observant. He would make an excellent brother to the Order.

"I will give you something to fight for," I told him.

He was understandably confused. I expected no response, but my son said "Okay" after a moment's hesitation and nodded.

I knew it then, staring at this three year old boy.

One day he would make me proud.

* * *

Today Ziio came to me while I was still at work in the office.

She nodded to the array of papers that were scattered across my desk. "Business for your Order?"

"For the moment, yes." I slipped a few of the documents - namely the reports from William regarding the land purchases - beneath the others.

"I wanted to discuss that with you."

"Ziio, I don't want to have this argument again."

"I am not here to argue. I understand why you want your men to buy our land so badly."

Well, this was certainly a change. I sat up a bit straighter in my chair and asked, "Oh?"

"You think it will prevent the colonists from trying to take it."

"Yes. We wish to prevent what happened with Silas. We also want to keep poachers from the land."

"Away from the cave, you mean."

"Well, that too."

"How do we know that your men will not try to settle on the land? How do we know that you can protect it?"

"The colonists will honor our purchase. There is nothing they can do."

Ziio regarded me with a calm, cold gaze. "Men have said things like that before. They broke their promises and captured my people. Hunted on our lands. Killed us."

"My brothers are not like those men."

"How can I be sure of that?"

"You can trust me, for a start."

"It is not about you. It is about your men, and all of the others," she said. "Can you control them as well as you say?"

"I am their Grand Master."

"A title and little more."

"Ziio... They will listen to me. They must."

She said no more, and stayed where she was, but the conversation was over.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I could see some of the truth in her words. But still...

"I would not let that come to pass as long as I am alive. You must trust me, Ziio. I care about you and our son far too much."

Her expression softened around the edges.

"I only hope that it outweighs your love for your Order," she said, before she stood to press a gentle - yet strained - kiss to my lips.

* * *

Today I was left to care for a sick child.

My son had developed a cough at some point in the night, and Ziio returned to her village with business urgent enough that she was willing to leave him with me for the time being. I was rather surprised, given the nature of our last few conversations; but I decided not to question it. My time alone with my son had grown increasingly rare as of late. Perhaps she was afraid that my evil Templar ways might rub off on the boy.

I brought a thin soup - mostly broth with a few bits of deer meat and some vegetables - up to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who was made comfortable in his bed. I wondered if I was supposed to spoon-feed him the soup, but he reached out and took the bowl from me, which allowed me to go over the paperwork I'd been left with since my last meeting with my brothers. There was so much to do, so much to prepare for...

My son ate his meal in silence, aside from a rough, painful-sounding chorus of coughs and sniffles. "Are you leaving again soon?" he suddenly asked.

"In a few days, I think," I told him as I shifted through the papers. "Though I'll see if it is possible for me to stay until you're better."

"Oh." He sniffed again and ran his arm over his nose. I scowled.

"Use this instead," I said, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket. He took it somewhat apologetically.

"What do you do in the city?" he asked. "Can I come?"

"Perhaps someday. I doubt your mother would let you now."

"Why?"

"You're too young, and Boston can be a dangerous place for children."

My son considered this for a moment. "Is it bigger than the village?"

"Far bigger, with far more people."

His eyes widened. "How do they all fit?"

"The houses there are taller and larger. And there are plenty of them; though I doubt there are enough to go around," I said. I'd set my paperwork aside then and was brushing some of the fever-damp hair from his eyes. "One day I will take you. I think you might enjoy it."

His grin was tired and thin, but genuine. "I want to see. Can I see where you work too?"

"Well..." I loathed the thought of him being anywhere near Hickey, and perhaps even Church. Johnson and Pitcairn were fine... Charles was another question entirely. His attitude toward my small family had lightened in recent months, but I could tell he was still upset about it.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," I told the boy, giving him a gentle pat. "I doubt your mother would let you leave the valley for some time."

"Maybe you can come to the village with us one day," he suggested.

"Ah... Perhaps that would not be a good idea."

"Why?"

I thought of the reactions of the Mohawk people, especially after the recent developments with my men in their part of the woods. They had steadfastly rejected all of William's offers on top of that; it would do us little good if the Grand Master suddenly showed up.

"I don't know the language, for one," I said instead.

"I could teach you."

I chuckled lightly. "Could you, now? What's the word for 'father'?"

"Rake:ni."

I took the empty bowl from my son's hands and set it aside. "At this rate you'll have me speaking full sentences in no time."

* * *

Today Ziio returned, looking harried and frustrated.

"Our son is on the mend," I informed her when she found me in the front room. "It seems to be a mild illness. Nothing that he can't recover from."

"Good," was all she said. There was a darkness in her eyes, one that I had not seen in years.

I knew what was wrong before the words were out of her mouth.

"Your men returned to the village today. They were also caught hunting on our land."

My brow furrowed with confusion. "Hunting? They would not-"

"The younger ones. Apprentices."

"Ah. They are new, Ziio, you must forgive their transgressions."

"I understand. But we just spoke about the land sales the other day - did you not tell them to leave us alone?"

"I haven't had a chance to return to them."

She sat beside me, running a hand over her face. "They refuse to take no for an answer. They keep returning with their offers, despite the fact that we continue to reject them."

"I have already told you why it's our top priority. William Johnson will do everything he can to help your elders to see the truth in our words."

Ziio frowned at me. "'See the truth' in your words? Haytham, we can take care of ourselves."

"This was not the case when Silas and his men came and imprisoned your people."

Her expression was fierce, angry. "That was completely different! That was-"

"It will happen again, Ziio. The colonists will find a reason to band together to push you from your land. The Order can prevent that from happening."

I expected a rebuttal of some sort. An angry protest. But I looked to my side and saw Ziio still sitting there, her chin resting on her hand, her mouth turned down.

I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed, but she did not remove it.

"This is a very tired argument," I said quietly.

"It is," she agreed. "And neither of us are willing to budge."

"I want to protect you. And our son."

"And your site, and your Order-"

"Please don't turn this around," I begged her. "Wouldn't I have gone back to the Order if I cared for them more?"

"You already have. I see it in your eyes: you're so distant sometimes. Lost in your thoughts after you return from Boston or an expedition."

"I'm not-"

"When we speak, when we lie together, sometimes even when you speak to our son..." Ziio trailed off for a moment, lips pursed. "Will you take him for the Order one day?"

"That is what I wish to do."

"And that is what I fear."

"There is nothing to fear," I assured her. "Becoming a brother of the Order is an honor. He will learn so much, and he will have the opportunity to give himself to a noble cause. We stress peace. We strive for it."

"That is what you say. But I have seen how you and your men work. It is far from peaceful."

"We are making amends. Sometimes the road to peace is fraught with hardship. You of all people should be aware of this."

"I...do not know if I want him to be part of that."

I sighed quietly. "He is my son as well, Ziio."

"Now you make him sound as though he is a tool."

"_Never._"

She looked up at me then.

"You are changing," she said, and before I could respond, she stood and left my side. Our son had started another coughing fit, and I could only assume that she was going to care for him.

How could she fail to see the truth in my words? How could she continue to rebuke them? To rebuke me? If she trusted and cared for me as much as she claimed to...

I let my head hang. I was so tired of this argument. So tired of it.

* * *

Today it was Charles - and, this time, only Charles - who came to see me.

"We have a problem," were the first words out of his mouth, and he said them with such fervent urgency that I immediately ushered him into my office and shut the door.

"What's wrong?" I demanded as soon as I was sure Ziio was not listening. She had taken to our son's bedside and refused to leave, though the boy was still getting better. I had a feeling that she was still upset with me after our conversation the night before.

"Assassins." He said the world as though it were poison on his tongue. "Someone in that godforsaken village must have spun a story for them. They believe that we are buying the land for our own personal profit."

My mouth hardened to a thin, angry line. There were always rumors of the Assassins here in the colonies, but they were always just out of our reach, lurking in the shadows; now it seemed as though they were finally emerging from their hiding places.

"Have you spoken with any of them personally?" I asked him.

Charles shook his head. "No, but we've sent Hickey back to the underground. If anyone can uncover the information, it will be him."

"I suppose that is all we can do for the moment," I said, resting my chin on my folded hands.

"...Do you think they know about the precursor site, sir?"

"I highly doubt it. And even if they did, they do not have the key."

"True. And yet..."

"They will have to be dealt with," I finished. "Swiftly and quietly. Does Hickey have a name for any of the Assassins that have confronted us?"

"None, but he believes that he's closing in on one of their leaders."

"I see..." I tried to sit back in my chair, but I was too restless, too anxious to do anything but tap my fingers across the surface of my desk. I had expected the Brotherhood to act soon - and I had been waiting for the day with some enthusiasm - but now of all times, when securing the area around the precursor site was so vital...

But this was what Reginald had sent me for. This was my duty, my responsibility to the Order.

"Speak with the other men. Tell them that I will return to Boston shortly to sort out this mess."

Charles cleared his throat. "Sir... I have been thinking on the matter for some time now. Might I suggest a...purge?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "A purge?"

"Have you not heard of them? There were times in the past when the Templar Order would band together to completely wipe out whichever branch of the Brotherhood was threatening them."

"I am aware."

"I have done the research: we have the manpower and resources to carry one out."

"But it would take so much time and effort to plan... What if they find the precursor site by then?"

"They will not. Sir, I have...well, I've begun preparations in your absence. I was hoping to discuss my plans with you soon."

My reaction was very mixed, to say the least. On one hand I was terribly proud of Charles's initiative: this was exactly what I had trained him to do. But on the other hand...

"Please, Master Kenway. I know you might be surprised, but hear me out. We outnumber their Brotherhood, and already we are beginning to hold more influence. If we can wipe them out, then we will have a much better chance of achieving our goals unimpeded."

"This is very true," I admitted, but for a moment I couldn't help but think back to Braddock and his senseless killing of the civilians...

This was different, I reminded myself. Assassins were not innocents; they were killers, and they sought to free the people in such a way that they would be eventually consumed by their chaos and violence.

They could not be allowed to run rampant.

"Perhaps this is for the best," I said after a moment. "For both the Order and the people of these colonies."

"I am glad that you agree, sir. May I continue preparations?"

"Yes. I will join the rest of you in a few days."

Charles left shortly after, and I began work on my own set of plans. A purge would be difficult, but I had heard accounts of them done rather successfully in the past by other Templars. The Assassin Brotherhood here was older than our Order, but fortunately we were the larger and more powerful group; especially so after all of the recruits my men had picked up in the past few years.

I would be a fool to think our task would be easy, however. I knew little about the Assassins here, but I had heard enough rumors and seen the fruits of their work. They were a force to be reckoned with.

Somehow Charles's news had left me feeling rather confident in the Order. More so than I had in a very long time.

* * *

Today everything began to fall apart.

Ziio confronted me after Charles left and our son had been put to sleep. At first I failed to notice that fire in her eyes, the intensity of which I had not seen since Charles found us in the woods together and she learned that Braddock had not actually died by my hand.

"How is he?" I asked her when she met me in one of the front rooms. "Is his fever down yet? The coughing?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.

Her expression gave me pause. "Ziio, what's wrong?"

"I heard you. I heard what you and that _brother _of yours were planning."

My mind went blank, and I suddenly felt very cold. I was a fool to think that I could still save face.

"Why were you eavesdropping?" I asked, rather lamely. Her anger only intensified.

"Your solution to this problem is to _murder_ an entire group of men and women? Have you not listened to the words of my people? We do not need your help. You will never take our land."

"I don't know how many times I must explain myself. We are not doing this to oust your people. We merely-"

"Listen to yourself, Haytham."

"You had no qualm when I suggested that we _kill_ Braddock."

"Because he was _killing_ my people! He sought to steal the land from beneath our feet! That was a completely different situation, and you know it."

"The Assassins cannot protect you as well as we can. We have more men. More firepower. More resources."

"All of which can be used against us when you change your minds."

"Which will never happen! Not so long as I remain Grand Master."

"And if you don't?"

"My men trust me. They listen to me. They would never do such a thing."

"You're so confident in these men of yours. But I have met them. I have seen them on my land. I have seen the way they treat it: with disrespect. I refuse to trust them."

"Ziio, you don't know them."

"Perhaps_ you_ don't know them. I can see the way they think in their actions, in their words. Your man Charles sounded far too excited by the idea of a...purge."

"He merely wants to protect the interests of the Order. As do I."

Ziio regarded me strangely for a moment, her head tilted to the side. She was fierce in her anger; beautiful.

"You have changed," she said again, her voice dangerous and low. "You are not the man I fell in love with."

"I am the same man you met on that wagon. The same man who saved you."

"No. He was different. Ambitious, maybe, but not like this."

The pit that had formed in my stomach was growing larger, larger with each of her words.

"I'm a man of the Order. I am its leader," I said, frowning. "We would get nowhere if I didn't have the drive to protect it."

"But what about me? Your son?"

"Don't you _dare _question my love for my son."

"Would you protect him if the Order threatened him?"

"The Order would never threaten him. In fact, we would welcome him with open arms."

"And that is exactly what I am afraid of."

"Pardon?"

And her ferocity was so intense then that I nearly felt the burn of it when she returned her gaze to mine. She took a few steps forward, and it was all I could do to hold my ground.

"Your ambition would consume him. I would look into his eyes one day and see everything there that I see in you now: malevolence, murder, a hatred of others who refuse to understand your ideals. I can never let that happen."

I darkened. My jaw clenched, and it felt as though the room had begun to spin.

"What exactly are you implying?" I hissed through my teeth.

"I would not raise Ratonhnhaké:ton as a member of your Order. I would not allow you to infect his mind with these thoughts of yours."

I had often prided myself on being a patient, careful man. Rarely did I lose my temper once I had left the yolk of my youth behind. But now I could feel it all welling up inside me: the fear, the anger. All of it directed to Ziio. I put my hands on her shoulders and drew her close.

"You will not take my son away from me."

She wrenched from my grasp, pushing me so hard that I nearly stumbled. I'd forgotten how strong she was, how agile.

"I will do what I need to in order to protect my child. I will _kill _you if I have to."

"He has absolutely nothing to do with this."

"He has everything to do with this! I know your plans, Haytham: you will carry out these schemes of yours, and the years will pass and you will give your knowledge to our son. You will train him as one of your own. And he will be lost to me forever."

"Not all Templars are as bad as you think. Look at me. You loved me."

"I was tricked."

I was loath to admit it, but her words were a knife through the heart. "Ziio," I demanded, pained, "you will not leave me. We overcame this before."

"This is not like before. This is something different," she said, quieter now. Her rage was giving away to exasperation, to a sort of long-suffered exhaustion. "You have chosen your Order over your family."

"No, I..."

She held up a hand. "Do not deny it. I see it in your eyes, in your expression. Your responsibility and dedication is to them. Not to me. Not to Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"You cannot do this, Ziio. You cannot take my son away from me."

"What you plan to do to him is even worse."

* * *

Today I felt lost. I felt tired. And I felt more confused than I had been in a long time.

Perhaps - no, most certainly - there was truth to Ziio's accusations. I had once thought that the years were pushing me from the Order, but in truth, it seemed as though it was the other way around. My grip on my family was slipping, slowly but surely.

I was losing them.

And, much to my surprise, I did not want to.

But I believed wholeheartedly in the Order's dream, in the peace it would bring if our plans came to fruition. How could Ziio be so blind to this? I was so sure that our son would understand someday - though now this was slipping away from me as well.

There was nothing more I could do to stem Ziio's anger. We argued more, and often, and most nights I found myself leaving the house in search of answers. What could I do to convince her to stay? To let me be with my son?

The answer was nothing. I should have realized this when she confronted me that afternoon. She was hopelessly stubborn - we both were - and I knew that she would not hesitate to carry out her threats if it came to that.

I, on the other hand... I could not bring myself to harm her, no matter the reason.

Did I still care for her, despite everything? Yes. Did I love my son? Most certainly.

I had wanted badly for it all to all work out. In the beginning I was the fool to believe that we could overcome all of this, that we could raise our son successfully and together. But Ziio and I were far too headstrong, and far too embedded in our own beliefs and practices to go back on them.

I had begun to realize in the past few years that things might not end well for the both of us. That one day something would happen to tear me from my wild fantasies and expose me to the truth.

It was regrettable, certainly. But there was so little I could do when neither of us would budge.

The day came when I knew they were returning to her village; this time for good. Ziio had told me as much the night before when I caught her gathering a few of Ratonhnhaké:ton's things.

"Are you going to Boston?" she asked me.

"Yes."

"Your men are waiting for you."

"Don't do this, Ziio. Don't-"

She stopped me with a sharp glare.

"I will do what I must."

The following morning came too quickly for my liking. I had not slept at all, and I believe that is the only reason why I had a chance to see them before they left.

Ziio hesitated when she caught my eye. And she nudged our son, who was clinging to her side. He came to me, a small smile on his face.

He did not know.

Part of me felt shattered as I gathered him up in my arms. He was bigger now, nearly four, and I knew then that I would not have a chance to celebrate his upcoming birthday. So I wrapped my arms around his tiny frame and held him tight, close to my chest, and pressed my face to his thin neck.

"You will grow to be a man of great conviction," I told him. "You will be proud and courageous. And you will do good things with these qualities. I know this because you are my son. You are a Kenway."

Ratonhnhaké:ton drew back a bit, his expression one of confusion. I tousled his hair one more time before I reluctantly let him go.

"I'll teach you more words when we come back," he said, and I gave a short laugh. I couldn't believe he remembered.

"Be good to your mother," I said. He nodded, reached up to touch my cheek. Amidst the confusion was something else, something close to...fear, perhaps? Had I given myself away? But Ziio called to him, and he stepped away, returning to her side.

I met her eyes. They were strangely...sad, perhaps?

But not remorseful.

Never remorseful.

"I am sorry," I said.

She shook her head.

And then they were gone.

* * *

Today I returned to Boston, and to the Order.

As expected, my men welcomed me with open arms and enthusiasm toward our newest endeavor. I worked with them for the better part of the week, though I felt strangely tired. I was not defeated, though. I had to put myself wholeheartedly into the Order now that I was back.

Charles approached me some time after, when it became clear that I would be staying with them in Boston permanently. "May I ask what happened?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

"There was a misunderstanding."

"She overheard our conversation."

"There was far more to it."

"What of your son?"

I took a long, slow breath, hoping that I betrayed none of the disappointment that I felt. I'd spent nearly every waking hour reminding myself that I had not abandoned them, had not abandoned my son; I would still do what I could to convince the Mohawk people to allow us to purchase their land, and eventually - somehow, someway - I would speak with my son again. I would show him everything we could do together: as father and son, and as Templar brothers-in-arms.

Ziio had not taken him away from me. I was still his father, and nothing would ever change that.

"My hope is that he seeks me out someday when he is more grown," I said after a pause. "Or perhaps I can find him. At that point I can train him."

"You still think that he would make a good Templar."

"Yes," I said, thinking to the future: to the realization of our vision, to a more peaceful world, to the image of slipping the Templar ring on my son's finger and fighting alongside him.

"I am sure of it."

* * *

First note: I think the whole Colonial Assassin purge was mentioned very briefly in the actual game (and almost like...not at all in _Forsaken _for whatever reason), but there's some more information about it via deleted audio clips on kosappiuni's youtube channel.

Second of all... I really do love Haytham/Ziio. It's one of my favorite AC pairings. I originally intended for this story to end on a happier note, but... The more I wrote, the more I realized that they're both very different and very stubborn people, and I think that it would be very difficult for them to carry out a successful relationship given the circumstances. This is just my personal view of course, and this definitely doesn't mean that I'm completely against them having a happy ending! I would love to see more happy endings for them. I just didn't feel that it would be appropriate here.

Sorry about that, haha. I didn't mean for this to become a little soapbox. tl;dr: I love Haytham/Ziio, I love Daddy Haytham. I'd also love to write a follow-up to this someday where Haytham and Connor meet up again under completely different circumstances than those that were presented in-game. I have some ideas for that already, actually...

And lastly, before this gets too long! Thank you all so, so much for your wonderful comments. I had so much fun writing this piece and it makes me happy that others enjoyed it as well. :)


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